


Ship of Death: The Dybbuk

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Ship of Death [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall





	Ship of Death: The Dybbuk

******************************  
Part Five: The Dybbuk

******************************

At night, in the desert, the softest sound travels far. Hutch could hear the sand dunes shifting, the dewdrops forming on the rocks. The stars turning on their axes.

He had set up his tent far from the others, overlooking the road from Cairo. During his years with Starsky, his family and servants had grown used to the seemingly empty tent that erected on its own. They'd grown used to Starsky's regular visits. Perhaps they thought that Starsky's own spirit was in the tent with him now.

The softest sounds kept him awake. The bark of a desert fox, hunting far off in the distant dunes. The slither of a snake entering the desert fox's den and killing her pups. The stamp of a camel's hoofs on the soft sand.

He should be able to hear Starsky's ghostly footsteps, on the road from Cairo. Starsky should have made it here by now, from Cairo. It was midnight.

Midnight at the oasis, thought Ken. Shadows paintin' our faces. Heaven's holdin' a half moon, shinin' just for us.

The desert wind stirred restlessly against a sand dune. The dune inched a little closer to Ken's tent. But Starsky was still so far away. Still on the road from Cairo, thought Ken.

The wind rattled his tent flap. Ken sat up. Listened. He should hear Starsky's footsteps. He should hear his voice. Why could he not hear his voice?

'Starsky?' he called. There was no answer. 'Let's slip off to a sand dune, real soon,' Ken sang. 'Starsky? Starsky?' There was no one there. No one to hear his voice. No one to see his face, painted with shadows by the desert moon. He was alone, and no one in this world knew him, or loved him.

It should not have ended like this. Starsky should have died, old and respected, surrounded by his family. I should have gone back to my own time, long ago, and he would have forgotten me, eventually. This was my fault. My fault.

A terrrible pain inside him, which had been building, it seemed, for years, suddenly burst free and demanded expression. He scarcely knew what he was doing, or what curses he was screaming. He found himself trying to shift one of the sand dunes, to push it away from his tent. What right did it have to be there, when Starsky was so far away. On the road from Cairo, still? He tore down branches from palm trees, and threw them at the other tents. People were running from their tents, shouting. But no one could hear his screaming. He was silent and invisible. The only person who could see his face. The only person who could hear his voice. Gone. Still on the road from Cairo.

He screamed in rage. He attacked the tents, pushing one over, flinging its contents around the little camp.

'Hutch? Hutch?' said a little voice. A voice that sounded like Starsky's, but softer, lighter, younger. A voice that sounded like Starsky when he was a very little boy. 'Hutch?'

Ken sat down upon the ground, and put his head in his hands. He felt tiny hands patting his hair. Tender little arms circled his neck.

'Don't be sad,' said Benjamin Starsky.

************************

Ken sat huddled in a corner of Judith's tent. The camp had been put to rights again, and everyone else had gone back to bed. Ben Starsky was asleep.

'Hutch?'

Ken looked up. It was Judith, holding out a goblet of wine. He took it from her, gently, and drank it down.

'Ben tells me his father is not with you. He... he's not dead, Hutch. There is no body. I thought... he must be a spirit, like you, with you. Like you. Whatever you are. David told me you weren't a ghost. He calls you his angel.'

Ken stood up. He searched around the tent, until he found the slate Ben used to write his letters, and poured himself another drink.

'I don't know where David is,' he wrote. He put the slate into Judith's hands.

In all these years, he had never communicated with Starsky's wife, or any of her servants. 'It's best to have no evidence of my existence,' he had always told Starsky. 'Let's not leave a paper trail.'

Judith handed back the slate. Ken erased his first message, and wrote, 'I'm not a ghost. Not an angel. I am human like you. I am from the future. Your future.'

Judith digested this information in silence for a while. 'David did not tell me this,' she said at last. And then, after another thought, 'Ben can see you.'

'Yes,' Ken wrote. 'He is like me. Like David. He is one of us. I don't think David knew. I didn't know for certain until yesterday.'

'Why didn't David tell me of this?' asked Judith.

'That was my fault,' Ken wrote. 'My association with your husband was dangerous. I warned him always to be more careful. But at least I was feared, as a powerful spirit that could enact supernatural revenge. If it were known I was a mere human like everyone else....'

'You are not like everyone else. You are different. David is different. My son is different.'

'We can travel through time. To the future. To the past. That is all.'

'That is no small thing,' said Judith. 'Tell me more. If my son is like you, I should know what you are.'

'Yes,' said Ken. Then he wrote it down. 'Yes. Things have changed now, and you should know. I will protect you as best I can, until we return to Luxor. Then I will show you the staircase. Ben should understand. Someday he will be its guardian.'

'This must be? It cannot be avoided?' asked Judith.

'Avoided? Maybe. But Ben is like his father. He will be curious. Isn't it better for him to learn properly, now? That would be less dangerous.'

'My lord trusted you,' said Judith. 'He commanded me to trust you, and I have never known a reason to disobey him.'

Ah, Lady, Lady, thought Ken. I am in no position to take the place of your husband. But it is true that you are lost in unfamiliar territory, and in need of my protection. He gathered together the scraps of his knowledge, and spent the long hours of the night imparting them to Judith.

 

***************

'David should have lived to see his grandchildren,' Ken finished writing.

'He didn't,' said Judith. 'But he didn't die, either. I know it. You will find him. I must take care of our son. But you will find him.'

It sounded more like an order than a plea, and Ken smiled. 'I will do as Your Highness commands,' he wrote on his slate.

Judith coloured, and coughed and apologized, but Ken laughed and waved the slate mockingly. Over the time of the journey to Luxor, they had come to know each other rather well. Each of them knew things the other did not know about the man they both loved.

'I did love him, you know,' Judith confessed one night.

'I know,' Ken wrote.

'How did you know that? I'm not sure my lord knew.'

'He knew, and I knew. Not because he spoke of you to me very often. He told me no secrets. But I knew. You made him happy.'

'Did I? I was not a good wife. I could not be passionate in bed. He tried to give me pleasure, but I could not let go. Always I remembered those other men, and how it felt when they.... But he was patient, and never reproached me, and I loved him for that.'

Ken swallowed, and looked down. Judith would never have confessed these things to anyone else on earth, he knew. But he was invisible. Silent. The perfect therapist.

'You trusted him,' Ken wrote. 'That made him happy. Benjamin is your son. That made him happy. And you never tried to stop him when he visited me.'

'Why should I?' asked Judith. 'Tell me. What was he like with you? He was always so gentle with me. But sometimes... he would come to me with bite marks and bruises, and he told me they were gifts from you.'

Ken looked around for the tent door, planning his escape.

Judith looked down at the blank slate, and laughed. 'Oh, I know. I am a lady, and should not speak of such things. But I am curious, and there is no one else to ask. Sometimes, David would tell me little things about it. It amused me, and excited him.'

'Did you never feel jealous?' Ken asked. 'Did you never think that what we did was wrong? The Bible says it is wrong.'

'I don't believe everything I read, or everything I am told,' said Judith. 'I never have.'

***************************

They reached Luxor late one morning, before the worst heat of the day. Ken half expected Starsky to be waiting for them in the doorway to the house, laughing at the fine joke he had played on them. But the man was nowhere to be seen.

The halls of the Luxor house echoed emptily, though dozens of people bustled about. Servants pushed past carrying canvas bags of clothes and dishes. Judith's housekeeper greeted her mistress with a goblet of cold water.

The water came from the well in the courtyard. Starsky had greeted him like that, more than once. He had drawn the water himself, and held it out. Cold and clear and pure. Each droplet clinging to another, sliding down his parched throat. Starsky's eyes, as blue and as deep as the well. Ken had held his wrists as he drank from the goblet, Starsky watching carefully.

'Don't spill any,' Starsky had remonstrated. 'Don't make a mess. Does it taste sweet?'

Ken felt dizzy, and looked around for a place to sit down, but the hall was too busy. He wasn't sure he could make it to his own quiet room in one piece.

He felt a tiny hand slip into his own, and looked down. Ben gazed up at him with adoration. 'Hutch? Are you tired?'

'Yes,' said Ken. 'But I'll be fine.'

'You should have a nap,' said Ben, with almost adult authority. 'You can use my room.'

'Thank you,' said Ken, gravely. 'But I have my own room.'

'Where?' Ben demanded. 'Show me.'

Ken led the baby to the room that had been set aside for his own use long ago. He'd rarely used it, and it was more than a bit dusty. Ben ticked his tongue, and toddled off to find a servant to dust it. Ken opened the drapes to let in fresh air and sunshine. A few moments later, Ben returned with a servant in tow, insisting firmly that he should clean the room. Now.

'Silly! No one will hurt you in here. I'm not afraid. See!"

'Yes, yes, little master,' said the manservant, with a bow. He proceeded to give the room a sketchy dusting, and made a hurried escape.

'You should lie down,' said Ben. He steered Ken from his place leaning against the wall, over to the bed, and attempted to push him down upon the mattress.

'All right, all right,' said Ken. 'I'll rest.'

'Have a nap,' said Ben, as he firmly shut the door.

Time is of your own making;  
its clock ticks in your head.  
The moment you stop thought  
time too stops dead.

So said Angelus Silesius, the sixth century poet and mystic. It was true, thought Ken. He stared at the closed door for a while, until his vision began to waver, and his eyelids droop. He tried to stay awake, because he hated to sleep, but sleep tore at him unmercifully, pulling him under, and at last he could not resist.

There was no peace to be found in sleep, only the cessation of the ticking of the clock, which was no peace, but death.

************

He awakened slowly, to a dark and silent room. For a long moment, he hung there, slowly twisting in time, between sleep and wakefulness, between life and death. Then he heard a soft step out in the hallway, and the clock started ticking.

The door to his room opened.

'Starsky?' he breathed. His throat ached.

'Hutch,' said a gentle voice.

The voice belonged to Benjamin. Ken shut his eyes.

'My daddy is not here,' said Ben. 'He's gone away.'

'I know, baby,' said Ken.

'He's waiting for you.'

'Are you sure?'

'I'm little,' said Ben, patiently. 'But I know. He told me before he went away. He told me to take care of you, and he said you were stub... stub....'

'Stubborn?' asked Ken.

'Yes. And you would think something was your fault. I don't understand big people.'

'Neither do I,' Ken admitted.

'My daddy told me you had to go up the stairs, and he would meet you there. So why are you still in bed?'

'Because I'm scared. Scared that he won't be there.'

'My daddy always keeps his promises,' said Ben.

Judith met them in the hall, Ken's bags at her feet. 'Show me the staircase,' she said.

Ben tugged at his hand. 'Hutch?' he said. 'Show me too?'

Ken knelt down, and took one of Ben's hands in his own. 'I'll show you,' he said. 'But you must promise me not to climb it. Not yet.'

'Because I'm too little,' said Ben. 'But I want to see my Daddy again.'

'If you climb the staircase, you may see your Daddy,' Ken allowed. 'But you may find yourself someplace without your Daddy, or me, or your mother. And you may not be able to get back here. Your mother couldn't come to find you, and I wouldn't know where you were. It would be like being lost out in the desert. You wouldn't want that, would you?'

Ben thought about that for a while. 'No,' he said, at last.

'Good. I'll be back to see you. When you're big enough to go out into the desert alone, you'll be big enough to climb the staircase alone. I'll show you how. My grandfather showed me, many years ago, but I forgot, and when I tried it again, I was scared.'

Ben nodded, sagely.

'Promise me?' asked Ken. 'Promise me, like an honourable man. You won't try to follow me on your own.'

'I promise,' said Ben.

Ken picked up his bags, and slung them over his shoulder, and led the others to the staircase.

'It looks ordinary,' said Judith. 'I've climbed it several times.'

'It is ordinary, on the surface,' Ken wrote on his slate. 'Only people like Ben, or David, or I, can climb it into another time. I don't know why.'

I don't know what I will find on the other side, he thought. Not this time. I don't know if Starsky is waiting for me. I know nothing.

'Goodbye, Hutch,' said Ben.

God, he looked like Starsky. His eyes were darker. Not so blue. More like his mother's than his father's.

'Goodbye,' said Ken.

'Goodbye,' said Judith. Her gaze almost met his, as if she sensed where he was standing.

'Tell my daddy I love him,' said Ben.

Ken gazed up the lonely, dark staircase. 'I will,' he said. Then he began to climb.

He remembered Kai Seljelid's lessons, though it was long time since he had put them into practise. Concentrate on where and when you want to be. Don't allow distractions....

He had reached the top of the lookout. He stepped through the doorway. Someone was standing there, looking down upon the town of Luxor. But the figure was too short for Starsky. Too slight and feminine. The person turned.

'There you are,' she said. 'Did you think I would let you escape? You destroyed everything I worked for. All my hopes.'

'You!' said Ken.

'Yes. I. My name is Khulud, remember? My father named me 'Immortal'. He named me well, for here I stand.'

'Yes. Here you stand,' said Ken. 'The last time I saw you, the Governor's troops were taking you away in chains.'

'I escaped,' said Khulud. 'Chains can be broken. Men are weak fools.'

'Why did you follow me here?' asked Ken.

'To kill you,' said Khulud. She lifted her hand. Her hand held a pistol.

'I think not,' said Ken. His own gun was trained on Khulud's head.

'Would you kill a woman in cold blood?' asked Khulud.

'If she were about to kill me,' said Ken. 'Not all men are weak fools.'

'I bear my master's child,' said Khulud. 'Would you kill an innocent baby, too?'

Ken stepped back into the stairwell. Khulud might be lying, to gain an advantage, but he couldn't take the chance.

Khulud followed him. Ken kept his gun trained on her, steady and sure, but he knew he couldn't pull the trigger. So, it seemed, did she. She fired. Ken ducked, slipping on the cold stone steps. She was a fair shot, but the stairwell was dim. The bullet missed his head, and ricocheted off the stone walls. He flung himself down the steps, as she fired again. A chip of stone, dislodged by the bullet, hit his head. He lost all sense of time and direction, as he fell and fell and fell....

 

*********

'Mister Hutchinson?'

'Ken? Can you hear me?'

Ken tried to shut out the voices, but they persisted. He reached out a hand in protest.

'He is waking up,' said a voice. A woman's voice. 'He is waking up at last.'

Khulud? Ken opened an eye, cautiously. Not Khulud. An older woman. She looked familiar. His housekeeper?

'Mr. Hutchinson?' she said again. 'Can you hear me?'

'Yes,' said Ken. His voice sounded rusty in his own ears.

'That is a mercy. We have sent for the doctor,' she said.

'Not necessary,' Ken protested, quickly. 'I'm... I'm well.' He wasn't sure of that. Wasn't sure if he were well at all.

'We have sent for the doctor, Ken,' said a male voice. 'You had a bad fall, it seems. We found you at the foot of a staircase, and it looked like you'd tumbled down.'

The staircase!

'I did fall,' Ken admitted. 'She was shooting at me.'

'She?' someone asked.

'Khulud. The Mamluk. She may still be in the house. I have to stop her.'

Ken struggled to sit up, but the bed showed a distressing tendency to rock up and down, rather like a ship at sea.

'Ken.'

A gentle but firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down. He looked up into a familiar face. Starsky, he thought. But not his own Starsky. An older man. Michael Starsky. That was his name. 'I have to stop her,' he said again.

'Don't worry,' said Michael Starsky. 'I will take care of it.'

'But....' Ken struggled to determine the source of his uneasiness with this solution. Michael Starsky, he was sure, could not take care of it. He could not stop Khulud. Michael Starsky's reasoning on this point was deeply flawed, but when Ken tried to explain why, the words made no sense even to him. He closed his eyes to consider the matter, and it was some time before he opened them again.

******************

'You were unconscious for several hours, Mister Hutchinson,' said the doctor. 'What you experienced was a dream, that is all.'

'Yes. Of course,' said Ken. 'When can I go home?'

'I want to do more tests. An unconsciousness that lasts for so long, it is disturbing.'

You don't know the half of it, thought Ken.

'I would like to keep you in hospital for one more night,' the doctor continued. 'For observation.'

'I'd rather go home,' said Ken.

'One more night,' said the doctor, gently but firmly. 'For observation.'

Ken nodded. 'One more night.'

The doctor smiled reassuringly. 'I am sure all the tests will be negative. You will be fine, Mister Hutchinson. But get some rest, and in the morning, you may return home.' He shook Ken's hand, and hurried away.

Ken lay back in his hospital bed, and thought about it. If Khulud were here, in this time, surely she would have finished him off. Her intent to kill him had been made quite clear. The staircase was like a ladder, he thought. They may have fallen on different rungs.

Michael Starsky and the housekeeper had told him he had been gone only one day. 'We would have noticed if you had been missing for ten years,' Michael insisted.

Yes. Of course. Ten years of his life had been reduced to one day.

And what of David Starsky? Was he lost in time, looking for Ken? If Ken wasn't there in the house, would he continue searching? They might miss each other. He should go home.

Ken climbed out of bed, and pulled the thin blanket around him. His clothes didn't seem to be anywhere in the room. The hospital corridor was filled with people. Perhaps he could just slip by....

'Mister Hutchinson!' It was a nurse. Young, but quite stern. 'Mister Hutchinson, you should not be out of bed yet. You might have a dizzy spell, and fall again.'

'I was bored,' Ken complained.

'Ah. Bored. Yes. Would you like something to read? A newspaper, perhaps?'

Ken looked down at the nurse. Young. Small. Slight. She reminded him of some Police captains he'd known. Nothing bad happens on her watch, he thought.

'A newspaper,' he agreed. 'I read Arabic,' he added, in that language.

'You speak it quite well,' the nurse said, as she led him back to his room. 'I will get you a newspaper to read. You will have some rest. After lunch, we will do more tests, but you will be fine. Tomorrow morning you will go home, and you will not be bored.'

Ken agreed that this was the only possible course of events. He lay back down in bed. A few minutes later, the nurse brought him a paper. The Egypt Daily News. In Arabic.

It was 1997, he told himself. November 16, 1997. Not the Sixteenth Century. This century possessed jet planes, and MRI machines, and telephones. But did it possess David Starsky?

He looked down at the world news headlines. The type danced before his eyes. His brain was used to the slower pace of events, from slower times. He must catch up. He sat back, and forced himself to read. Later, the nurse brought him his lunch. They took samples of his blood, and pictures of his skull and its contents. He had dinner, and read the paper again. Night fell, inevitable as taxes.

David Starsky did not disturb his sleep.

*******************

Strange sounds woke him. They were not the sounds he was used to, either of the house in Cairo, or of the camp in the desert. Here, it was the sounds of a patient moaning in pain, a metal cart being pushed down a hospital corridor, a plane roaring overhead as it came in for a landing at the Luxor Airport. He was in Luxor, he reminded himself. Twentieth century Luxor.

'Mister Hutchinson? Are you awake?' This was his nurse from the day before.

'Yes,' he said, instantly. He resisted the temptation to call her sir. He wanted to get out of here today -- and in one piece.

'The doctor will be in to see you soon,' she said.

'Wonderful,' he said. 'Could I have my clothes, please? I'm sure he'll be letting me out right away.'

She smiled, in a rather patronizing way, he thought. But she brought him his clothes, and laid them down on the bedside chair. 'They were rather dusty,' she said. 'I brushed them off as well as I could. Don't put them on until the doctor says you may go home.'

Ken got out of bed, to use the washroom. The nurse brought him a razor, and he shaved. Best not to look too much like a street person, he thought, if I want the doctor to declare me healthy and sane. My... my family... no! My father. He could use any signs of illness, or brain damage to.... My God! I've not thought of my father in so long. Ten years? No. It's only been a day. I must remember that. I mustn't arouse any suspicion that I'm not firing on all cylinders.

He finished shaving, and brushed his teeth. He combed his hair carefully. Then, with the hospital blanket wrapped around him to add more coverage to the embarrassing hospital gown, he walked a few feet down the corridor and back. See, he thought to himself. I am quite steady on my feet.

Someone laughed, as if in answer to his thought. It was a rather unpleasant laugh, and he looked up to see what that was about. A woman stood in the doorway to the elevator, robed all in black, her face covered except for her eyes. But he knew those eyes. Khulud. He started toward her, as the elevator door opened and she got on board.

'Mister Hutchinson!' she called. 'If I cannot have the revenge I want, I will want the revenge I can have.' The elevator door closed on her last words.

'Mister Hutchinson?' Someone gripped his arm, and Ken turned in alarm. But it was only the nurse. Doctor al Rahman stood beside her. They both looked concerned.

'I think you should remain in hospital a little longer,' the doctor said, as they walked back to Ken's room. 'No, please listen Mister Hutchinson. Head injuries can be more serious than they first appear. You seem pale and stressed from your short walk.'

Ken opened his mouth to explain, but there was no point. If he began talking about black robed women, threatening revenge. Invisible black robed women, at that.... No. It was best to preserve an image of sanity, he thought. How often had he said that to Starsky?

Starsky! He must get out of this place, and try to find the other half of his soul. Wherever that had drifted off to. He began his little speech about how he would heal much better in his own home. But he was interrupted by the hospital intercom.

'Code Triage Level Three. Code Triage Level Three.'

Off in the distance they could hear sirens. Footsteps down the hall. A nurse entered the room. She was pale, and shaking.

'Fatima!' she called. Ken's nurse ran to her side.

'What is it?' asked Fatima.

'Terrible,' said the other nurse. 'Allah have mercy.'

Doctor al Rahman jumped to his feet. The sirens were coming closer.

'My apologies, Mister Hutchinson,' he said, politely. 'There is something I must see to. But I will talk to you again later.'

'Never mind me,' said Ken. But he was wasting his words. The doctor and the two nurses were heading for the emergency entrance.

Ken dressed quickly. Clearly this was a serious emergency, and the hospital staff should not be burdened with worrying about him and his minor problems. Time to leave, and let them do their jobs.

Ambulances were arriving. Dozens of them. People crying and moaning in pain. Frightened relatives. Young, scared police officers. Older police officers with their hands on their weapons, looking determined.

One of these last he recognized. An old friend of his grandfather's.

'Rafiq,' he called.

Rafiq turned. Tears were streaming down his face. 'Ken? Were you there, too?'

'There? No. I've been here since last night. What happened?'

'It was a massacre,' said Rafiq. 'Dozens of people. My partner, Ken. They killed my partner. But I got two of them.'

'Good, Rafiq. That's good. But what happened?'

'Terrorists, I think. They shot people. Beheaded them. Disembowelled them. They killed my partner. That's all I know.'

Ken patted him on the shoulder. He looked around at the organized chaos before him. Soldiers and police officers were standing guard. Doctors and nurses were dealing with the dead and wounded. But there were frightened people whom no one had the time to deal with. Friends and relatives of the wounded and slain. The hospital at Luxor was not equipped to deal with a sudden disaster of this magnitude. He herded the walking traumatized over to the waiting area. Found them blankets and hot coffee, and washcloths to wipe away tears and splattered blood. Listened to the stories from several terrified witnesses -- 'They cut him open and pulled out his guts!' 'They cut off her head! They actually cut off her head.'

Doctor al Rahman found him there some hours later.

'Mister Hutchinson? Whatever are you doing?'

'I'm a police officer in my own country, Doctor,' he answered. 'I had to do something. I don't think I was in the way, was I?'

'Certainly not. But you are a patient here yourself.'

'Not any longer,' said Ken. 'I am signing myself out. You all have enough to deal with. No, no. I insist. I will see my family doctor tomorrow, but I assure you I'm fine.'

He was indeed feeling much better. Better than he had felt in a long time. It was remarkable to no longer be invisible. To be recognized, touched, listened to. It was time to go home, he thought.

But what of David Starsky? Was he lost in time, invisible, silent and unknown?

 

*************

Los Angeles was strange to him, after being away for a year. It was strange to hear American accents again. Strange to see women in shorts and sleeveless tops. Strange to see couples strolling about hand in hand, or kissing in public. Strange to come back to his own small apartment.

Strange to walk into Captain Dobey's office. Captain Dobey hadn't changed.

'Hutch! You look terrible. What have you been doing with yourself?'

'I've been away for a year, remember?'

'You look like you've been in Hell for ten years. But what can I do for you, boy?'

Ken handed him a piece of paper. 'I'm coming back to work. Transferring to your department.'

Captain Dobey spit out a mouthful of coffee. 'What?' he roared. 'Hutch! Hutch! You spent all that money already?'

Ken laughed. 'No. Not at all. I just need to work. I'm a cop, Captain Dobey. I need to... I need to act like one. I need to do something. To make a difference.'

'Hutch? Ken? Listen. There are easier ways than working here. There are times I wonder if we make any difference at all. Like, oh, every day or so.'

'I need to be home, Captain. I only went on leave for a year, remember? I said I was coming back.'

'Yeah, you did. And no one believed you.' Captain Dobey stared at Ken's stony face. 'Okay. Okay. Whatever you want.' He looked at the paper Ken had handed him. 'I see it's all official,' he went on. 'You don't want to work with Blaine any more?'

'He's got a new partner, of course. He's moved on. I've heard good things about you, Captain.'

'Thanks,' said the captain, dryly. 'Well, as a matter of fact, I could use a new Zebra team.'

'A Zebra team?' asked Ken, rather uncertainly.

'You've heard of them?'

'Yes. I'm not sure what exactly....'

'You'll be pretty much on your own. Do whatever needs doing at the time. Undercover work. Covering a beat. Whatever. I've got someone in mind as your partner.'

'Oh, yes,' said Ken, listlessly. 'I'm not sure....'

'Just transferred here from New York. Got shot up pretty bad by some crime boss or other. Let me see if he's around....' Captain Dobey stomped out of his office, clearly a man on a mission.

Ken was dubious. He didn't know if he wanted to be saddled with a partner right now. In fact, he was sure he didn't. Partners were nosy. Apt to notice little things, like if you weren't sleeping well. It was a partner's duty to watch your back, but that often translated into watching everything else as well. Partners spent up to seventy five percent of their time together. No, he wasn't at all sure he wanted a partner.

He got to his feet to walk restlessly around the office, and was standing by the small window when the door opened, and Captain Dobey walked back in. He was not alone.

Ken managed to keep his face blank, though he held onto the window sill to keep upright.

'Ken Hutchinson. David Starsky,' Captain Dobey announced, casually. As if it were no big deal, thought Ken.

And indeed, David Starsky seemed to agree with the captain's assessment. 'Hi,' said Starsky.

'Hello,' Ken managed to say.

'Cap'n Dobey thinks we'd make good partners,' Starsky added. He sounded dubious. As dubious as Ken himself had been moments before. And for some reason that irritated Ken.

'Well, I am an experienced detective,' Ken informed him, crisply. 'I know Bay City well. I used to work with John Blaine.'

'Oh,' said Starsky, not sounding particularly impressed. 'Why you looking for a new partner, then?'

'I wasn't. I've been away for a year. In Egypt. Just got back. And it was Captain Dobey suggested I'd need a new partner.'

'Oh,' said Starsky. 'Don't sound so thrilled at the idea.'

'I'm not,' said Ken.

'Neither am I,' said Starsky.

Captain Dobey was looking back and forth between the two of them. 'Get out of my office!' he roared. 'Get some coffee. Punch each other out. I don't care. You're partners for now, until I think of something better to do with you. Go!'

They went.

********************

'This is my favourite coffee shop,' Ken told Starsky.

Starsky looked as if he was about to say it wasn't as good as Starbucks, but he nodded. They ordered coffee. Starsky ordered some impossible concoction with chocolate shavings and three different kinds of coffee beans. He added cream to it, as they sat at their table in the window.

Our table, thought Ken. This is Our Table. He stared into his coffee cup, watching the little bubble bursts.

'Most people like me,' said Starsky.

Ken choked on his coffee.

'No, I'm serious,' said Starsky. 'Most people like me. Why don't you like me?'

Ken looked up. Starsky was pouting like a hurt little boy. 'Starsky,' said Ken.

'That's better,' said Starsky. And he grinned. 'What was the matter with you, anyway? You looked like being partnered with me was your worst nightmare.'

'I just got back from Egypt, remember? I have jet lag.'

'Ah. Why come back to work so soon? Need the money that badly?'

Ken laughed, for the first time in... how long? 'No,' he said. 'I don't need money. I need to get back to work.'

'I know what you mean,' said Starsky. 'I got shot a year ago. Almost to the day. It's been rough. People ask me, why not just retire? But I don't want to be put out to pasture yet. I'm only 30.'

'I've had a rough year too,' said Ken. 'Not as bad as you did. I didn't nearly die.'

'You know about that?' asked Starsky. 'Dobey tell you?'

'No,' said Ken. 'I... I just....'

'Listen, Hutchinson.' Starsky leaned across the table. 'I gotta be honest with you. I don't believe in all that macho shit. Not between partners. We gotta be honest with each other. Trust each other. Okay? I didn't nearly die. I did die. Died right there on the operating table. Then I came back to life. Just like that. Scared everyone.' Starsky laughed. 'Scared everyone some more, when I healed real fast.'

I'd given up, thought Ken. I spent a year looking for him, all over Egypt. Through space and time. A whole year. And all the time he was back here. But New York? What's up with that? And he doesn't know. Doesn't remember me.

'I healed real fast,' Starsky said again. 'You listening, Hutchinson?'

'Yeah. I'm listening.'

'Okay. My body's in great shape. Good as always. But I been having weird dreams. Like I lived a whole different life or something. When I saw you in Dobey's office. I don't know. I remember you or something. Sure you don't know me?'

'Nah,' said Ken. 'Never seen you before in my life.'

'Oh.' Starsky sounded disappointed. 'You got a wife? Girlfriend?'

'Nope. Not right now,' said Ken.

Starsky brightened. 'That's good. I mean, you won't be distracted while we're gettin' to know each other. We got a lot to learn.'

'Yeah. We do.'

'I want you to be sure about this, Hutchinson. I've been having weird dreams.'

'You said that already,' Ken pointed out.

'I know, but my Grandmother. She's been telling people I'm possessed by a Dybbuk.'

'A what?'

'A Dybbuk. It's a spirit. Like a vampire or something. I don't know. It's the old people know these things. But it's like a ghost possessed me, and I have a lot of his memories.'

'Okay,' said Ken.

'Okay? That doesn't bother you?'

Ken kept his face perfectly straight. 'Should it?' he asked.

'Okay. I guess not,' said Starsky. 'So let's go tell Dobey we didn't hit each other but we're cool. Okay?'

'Okay.'

They walked back to Metro, side by side. Starsky's jeans were sinfully tight, thought Ken. How did he manage to run in them? They rode up the elevator together, silently. Ken knocked on Dobey's door.

'Come in!' called the captain. But Starsky had already pushed the door open. He strolled up to the water cooler, calm as if it were his own office.

'Hey, Cap'n,' he said. 'Hutchinson and me are partners.'

'Thanks, Sergeant Starsky,' said Dobey. 'But I already knew that.'

'You got a case for us yet?' Starsky went on.

Ken joined him by the cooler. 'Be patient, Starsky,' he said. 'You need to learn the ropes. Get to know Bay City.'

'Yeah, yeah,' said Starsky. 'I can do that, and work a case too. Something easy to start. A simple murder, or something.'

'I'll see what I can do, Starsky,' said Dobey. 'See if I can persuade a murderer to perpetrate something simple for you to cut your teeth on. In the meantime....'

Dobey was rattling off a list of instructions. Where their desk was. What the regulations were. How to file a report.

Ken wasn't listening, and neither, it seemed, was Starsky. Starsky had poured out a drink of water in one of the little paper cups. He held it out to Ken. Ken took it, and their hands touched.

'Hutch,' said Starsky.

*** The End***


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